Nobody Knows
by Orokid
Summary: Harry sits in the infirmary after the war, contemplating everything he's done and who he's lost at least, mentally...


**Orokid**_: Hi hi! I know, I know… I know what you're thinking of. You're probably going "yet another songfic", right? Well… too bad! That's pretty much all I can write right now, so give me a break. I'm just trying to reach my wanted number by the end of the school year (2007), and I'll be damned if I don't reach it! Lol. So… I have fourty more stories (one-shots and chapters) to write._

_Lol. I MIGHT be kidding…_

_Anyway, you're probably thinking that I'm babbling about now, and I probably am. But does that mean I care much about it? Lol. Not really, all because I like babbling. Grins Well… maybe I should get to the disclaimer, just so you all will stop complaining about my overly attitude with babbling…_

**Diclaimer**_: I do not own Harry Potter or any of the characters mentioned in this fanfiction. At least, not the ones that JK Rowling created. Also, I do not own the song "Nobody Knows", and that's by Tony Rich Project._

**Nobody Knows**

Harry laid in his hospital bed, not really paying attention to much of anything other than the ceiling. His forehead had been bandaged, his cheek bruised and patched up, and one of his arms had been placed into a sling- and there was even more wounds he could name off the top of his head, but he truly didn't wish to start the process of naming them out. It would take hours upon hours, to tell the truth.

But the pain that hurt the most was inside of his tortured body, within his ribcage. His heart had been wounded even before these later wounds had taken their places upon his body.

The young man sighed, using his only good hand to rub his tired eyes, and he hoped that he didn't look as horrible as he felt within his beating organ. It was his entire fault that he was in such a state at this time, so it wasn't as if he could blame his troubles upon someone else. Harry's better eye gazed back up to the ceiling through the gap between his ring and middle fingers, thinking of only one thing- one person, really.

Thinking about her.

Wish I had told her how I felt Maybe she'd be here right now 

_But instead…_

A large group of people fought to enter the doors of the infirmary- some wanting just to see him or to shake his hand, and others wanting and waiting to have interviews- but only one lonely soul entered the room. Harry had been promised that only a set amount of visitors would come to see him at a time (i.e. one person per visit) until he felt better, so the man merely assumed that he'd never see more than just a single person- and, personally, he was glad for it. And he did have his reasons for feeling such a way.

One: He'd never feel good about all his decisions, about having failed the one he wanted to prove himself to the most.

Two: The one who he wanted to visit the most hadn't made an appearance yet, and… he doubted that she ever would really.

He smiled weakly at the male redhead that had come into the room, although emotion seemed to be lacking within the young hero's emerald orbs at this point. It wasn't hard to figure out just why he was this way, and their position as friends had caused them to know just about everything. No one had to vocalize the truth.

"How're you feeling, mate?" the man anxiously asked his friend, having no idea what to say to him, a Band-Aid still holding onto his cheek, and his left arm- from elbow to wrist- had been bandaged. "Is Madam Pomfry treating you well?"

"As she always does", the raven haired youth said with a small forced laugh on his scarred lips, and he held back the questions that dared to defy his hold upon them. The last thing he needed to do was for Ronald to know exactly whom he was distressed about and why he never seemed to get better. His wounds hadn't changed, and it didn't seem as if they'd ever close.

For a long moment, the duo of friends sat in silence, neither talking, let alone allowing a smile out for the world to see.

But the tall redhead seemed to know what exactly was going on with his best mate, whether the young man would admit to it or not. It didn't take a mental genius (obvious, since even Ron knew) to understand a broken heart. "You're not going to ask about her?"

I pretended I'm glad you went away  
These four walls closin' more every day  
And I'm dying inside  
And nobody knows it but me

Harry looked to his friend, startled that the subject had been brought up at all, but he wouldn't let himself be unmasked. Not now, and not ever. He shrugged nonchalantly and looked at his friend with uncaring eyes. "What's there to ask, mate?"

Ignoring his statement, the youngest male Weasley smiled at his green-eyed friend, nudging him ever so lightly. "You going to be able to heal for the finals? I hear that the Cannons are sending out recruiters to watch us."

"That's great!" Harry laughed, although there was something missing from it- happiness. And the boy had lost that certain ability when he had lost her. "I'm going to have to get well then, aren't I?" He grinned, but, still, the smile seemed incomplete to all those that might've seen it. "I'll have to! How else will we get on the same team, eh?"

The man laughed and smiled as well, finding that he hadn't noticed his friend's distant ways. Why should he? This was how Harry and he had talked many a time, so it wouldn't seem different to him. "Exactly, mate!"

What he forgot was that the Man-Who-Lived was a very good actor. Yet, no matter how good an actor he may be…

"I bet Hermione would be excited that we'd both be put on the Cannons!"

… he couldn't act his way through the depression that had flashed through his eyes. He couldn't stop himself from it, but he knew to cover it up as quickly as possible so that his best mate might not notice it.

And, thankfully, the other boy didn't see.

Like a clown I put on a show  
The pain is real even if nobody knows  
Now I'm cryin' inside  
And nobody knows it but me

About an hour later, his heart shattering each and every time her name had been mentioned, the ginger haired young man had picked himself out from the chair next to Harry's bed and left, and the raven-haired adult breathed a sigh of relief once the door closed behind him. It wasn't as if he had hated his friend being there to help him with his loneliness, but he was only a constant reminder of the one he had lost emotionally before it had all happened.

Soon, he'd have to pull away from him as well, just so the hurt would stop, so he didn't have to feel like crying every moment her name was brought up in a conversation.

But he knew that he couldn't escape her memory now, after all that had happened and everything they've gone through. She was too well known for the public, and her name and face would follow him everywhere. He couldn't even hide in his dreams for he knew that she was there as well, haunting him, waiting for her time to strike and cause him either insanity or his already inevitable death. She was to be his heartache, and he couldn't seem to find the strength anymore to live one more day, for the young woman who had captured his heart had been his only reason for not dying as long as it's been.

"I love her…" he whispered softly, laying his head into his hands, not even caring about the pain and suffering that racked through his already wounded body. "I love her so much… Why must I be cursed like this?" Once more, as he did while his thoughts turned grim, to the memories they shared together, a sob couldn't help but come from his lips.

His mask had fallen out of place, and he didn't know how long it'd take him to put it back on yet again. It had taken almost an hour the last time…

Why didn't I say  
The things I needed to say  
How could I let my angel get away  
Now my world is just a-tumblin' down  
I can see it so clearly  
But you're nowhere around

He was thankful for the time he ended up having after his friend had left, although he couldn't say as to why he was truly thankful. His heart would have it's time to burn within his chest, the fire that a waning love sparks within the dark recesses of the organ. It didn't make much sense, considering how he enjoyed being in pain while others conducted their lives happily, but he didn't care much that he ached and yearned for her.

Aching for her over would eventually cause him to stop feeling like this, right? At least, that was what he kept telling himself, what he kept hoping would happen. He didn't know if it would happen for sure, but… it was still there. The hope was still within his heart, although it wasn't as well…

For some reason, he liked to confuse himself as well.

The thing he hoped for the most was that the woman with brown, curly locks would come in and grant his loneliness away, like some angel would a dying man. And that was just what he was-

A dying man, fit to drown in his own sorrow.

The nights are lonely  
The days are so sad  
And I just keep thinkin' about  
The love that we had  
And I'm missin' you  
And nobody knows it but me

Ginny Weasley, the youngest of them all, had, of course, taken this exact moment to visit the Man-Who-Lived, during the weakest moment he'd ever been in before anyone's eyes- including his best mates. It had surprised him just how quickly he had fixed himself up and pasted a smile upon his face, and it was hard to see the tracks of his tears past the gauze and grime that hadn't been washed off from the moment he had arrived in the hospital bed at Hogwarts.

But, as she seemed to do now of all times, the young woman only took a glance at him before shaking her head at him and sitting in the chair his best mate had vacated earlier. She let out a sigh as she looked up at him, her blue eyes pitying him, obviously looking straight through his pointless acts. "Why do you keep doing this, Harry?"

"Doing what?" He knew exactly what he was doing, as well as what he was currently trying to cover up. Why was it that she, out of all the people in the world AND at Hogwarts, have to be the one to have figured him out the best? He didn't know, but he figured that it probably had to be because of the feelings she held for him- the same ones he had felt only a year prior. Sadly for her, his emotions had only strayed to another only a few weeks after their breakup.

And, sadly for him, those feelings led him to the state he was in now.

Harry watched her look at him expectantly, knowing that he understood exactly what she was talking about, annoyed that he was making her go through this. "Hiding yourself, your pain, from your friends." His mask didn't faulter, and that only seemed to rile her up even further at his antics. "I know that you've been beating yourself up over the things Hermione went through, but you can't blame everything that happened on your sorry arse."

As usual, he flinched at her name, holding back the fresh tears that threatened to fall down his cheeks at the mere rememberance of past events. Why shouldn't he be sad? It was his fault that it had occurred…

"Maybe… Maybe you should go talk to her?" the red haired sixth year offered, obviously trying to cheer her former lover up, not sure what else to do other than that. Did she still love him? It was a large probability, but he didn't wish to continue a relationship with a woman he no longer loved. Besides, even if she did love him still such as she had during their brief time as a couple, she knew and understood that he couldn't go back to loving her after this. He had fallen in too deep, and the ladder that had been able to reach him before no longer could touch his firm brow, let alone be at an arm's length away.

The door that had once been wide open for her to enter was now closed. He had turned to open another, leaving her to look for a window or such to jump from, just as he had done.

By the time he had thought up an answer well enough to protect him from further embarrassment, a voice had interrupted his, saying that visiting hours for him were now over. Ginny couldn't help but muse over the thought that things tended to be over before they even started whenever both Harry and herself were involved.

With another sigh, she left him for the night, but the raven-haired hero knew that the conversation would continue tomorrow, when others weren't bursting inside. He only nodded, telling her that he'd be here, albeit talking with only his eyes at this time.

I carry a smile when I'm broken in two  
Now I'm nobody without someone like you  
I'm tremblin' inside, and nobody knows it but me

For three hours straight, Harry Potter had tossed and turned in his bed, trying to find comfort where there seemed to be none. Then again, he'd never find peace lying in bed, thinking of the one he'd never be able to love and who'd never love him. There wasn't such a thing to him, to tell the truth, and he doubted that he'd ever be able to find it within another's embrace again.

His best mate, the one with wavy, curly locks and a smile that could charm a man into doing anything and everything she wanted, was to be his One and Only. There just couldn't be another in his life.

Turning onto his back one last time, he looked back up to the ceiling yet again, feeling as though those gleaming while tiles were taunting him somehow. How they were, he didn't know for sure, but he just knew that they were. It was as if it was their fault for making him feel like the worst thing that ever existed upon the planet, their fault that he laid in bed with nothing more than a few wounds and a broken heart, with little more than a soul left inside his body.

For she was his life, his love, his soul.

And he had lost all of them when he had lost her, and there wasn't a way to get any of them back until she'd return to stand by his side.

I lie awake, its a quarter past three  
I'm screamin' at night  
As if I thought you'd hear me  
Yeah, my heart is callin' you  
And nobody knows it but me

As Harry lay awake at five AM, mere hours before the day would begin, it seemed unlikely that he'd ever fall into his dreams now. His heart was too heavy for even the idea of sleep, despite the fact that his eyes were drooping while thoughts continued to race through his mind. Depression, which usually made one drift into dreamland, was what was holding him back now.

And it didn't seem fair, to tell the truth.

He reflected back on the past couple of days, of the lonely nights that dared to keep him thinking about her, and he only held back the tears that threatened to fall all over again. Doing all that he could, the tears remained behind his eyes- like he had taught himself to since he had been a boy. If anything, from then until now, he couldn't ever allow himself to cry- unless he'd have broken down out of such intense emotions that he couldn't hold it back, like he had before his former girlfriend had come in to visit. And, he knew, it'd be Hell if she, who had caused him to be so wounded and pitiful, saw him just how much she affected him.

But… he knew that that had been just talk. The truth was, if she came to visit, he knew that he wouldn't be able to hold back what emotions she could evoke in him. He loved her too much not to know that, and he knew that too well not to understand that he'd be in love with her forever, from the day he had met her until the day that he would die.

How blue can I get  
You could ask my heart  
But like a jigsaw puzzle its been torn all apart  
A million words couldn't say just how I feel  
A million years from now you know I'll be lovin' you still

About the time the clock chimed to tell the school that it was nine AM, the boy turned man had finally fallen to sleep, and his body was thankful for such an instance. But even in his dreams, he found himself lonely all over again, wishing and longing for someone- well, not just someone; a certain young woman that he had always longed for since the day he had noticed his true feelings- to hold him and tell him the words he wished to hear.

But he couldn't ever get such a happening, no matter how he could ever try for such a thing. His heart, although heavy, still hoped for the best, despite how his mind dared to tell him otherwise.

In his sleep, he could feel the touch of something soft and warm touch the top of his head, and the feel of fingers slowly brush his hair from his face.

It had felt strange to him, but it gave him a comfort that he couldn't describe- and it caused him to fall deeper and deeper into the world of dreams rather than awake at the touch. His ears had been closed, or else he might've heard things he rather be awake to hear, and his eyes might have started tearing up at the sight of who was touching him so softly. If Harry had been awake, he might've been found with a smile on his face, and his body would possibly be healing faster than it would.

And then, after moments in his dreams- probably hours in the real world- the feeling had disappeared, and he was once more left alone, longing for such a feeling all over again.

The nights are lonely  
The days are so sad  
And I just keep thinkin' about  
The love that we had  
And I'm missin' you  
And nobody knows it but me

The next morning, when he had dragged himself out of bed, forcing himself up onto his feet for the first time in months, he had immediately felt pain move through his every being- but that wouldn't stop him. He had a mission in mind, for the first time in months, and he was more than willing to go through with this one. And the reason seemed simple to a normal person, if they could understand just what was going through his head right then.

He recognized that touch from the night before, and he knew that he hadn't been dreaming completely when he had felt it. Sure, he had been in his dreams at the time, but that didn't mean that the touch had been in his head alone. It was more- it had been real; realer than anything else in the world.

And he'd be damned if he would lose her again, after so much time without her.

As soon as he had reached the doors, he had immediately found the outside vacant- for once. He was surprised that it was without people holding cameras, snapping pictures here and there, and even more so surprised that they hadn't stayed to get the story, like he had known. Had they merely given up on him, or had they gone home to make up his stories? He didn't know, but he really didn't care either.

He limped forward, holding onto the wall so not to fall over and cause himself further damage. His wound, which had refused to heal earlier, seemed to be allowing his blood to flow from his body, and he could feel the blood slowly seep through the green t-shirt that had been placed upon him recently by his nurse. But that wouldn't stop him- he had a mission. He had to see her.

_Tomorrow mornin' I'm hittin' the dusty road  
Gonna find you wherever, ever you might go  
I'm gonna unload my heart  
And hope you come back to me  
Said when the nights are lonely..._

It wasn't long before his 'mission', although needed to be completed, failed, and he had fallen to his knees only two halls away from the place he had just left. Harry felt as though he were a failure, and his right hand was clutching at the reason.

But, though his eyes were misty, he could see her rushing towards him, see her dropping her schoolbooks and running over to his side. The young man could see her tears forming at the chocolate abysses, could see the emotion still shinning in them like they had before everything that had occurred, and he could vaguely see the scars that had formed because of what he blamed himself for. It was hard not to, but he was too weak in his current state to apologize yet again for something he couldn't undo.

His bloody fingers, having been pulled from his side, moved up and touched her cheek, and he gave her a painful smile. It was there that he had said the words he never told her before, and he wished that it would've been at a better time- when he wasn't hurt and while she wasn't ignoring him.

"I… love you, and… I'm s-sorry."

She shook her head, tears falling, and gave a slight laugh at his announcement. It was just like her to try to smile when he was in the worst pain ever, but he didn't quite seem to mind it when she touched his own face with her gentle hands, kissing his forehead with flower petals one called lips. "I love you too, but… we need to get you back." It soon as he was about to complain about her answer, tell her that it wasn't as formal as it seemed, she placed fingers upon his lips, silencing him- and he knew that she understood, by that mere movement. "Need help?"

With a nodded, she picked him up, holding him close to her, leading him over to where he would be healed completely by the end of two months- and that would be when their relationship would be announced for the first time.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Orokid: Yeah, I know. I DID end it kinda quick, but it's been here forever. So… I just thought I should finish. So… it did. Lol. What did you guys think of it, despite the fact? I think I did a pretty damn good job, but that's just me- I want to know your opinion, not mine. So… mind giving me it? Review!


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